Chapter Eighteen: Let’s Walk the Path of Blossoms Together!

“This is the future of over twenty young people—can Reporter Chen really make this happen?”

Almost all the classmates and colleagues expressed their support for his actions and were willing to offer any assistance. The resigned hearts that had once accepted fate now seemed to harbor new hope, though Cheon Yun-ho himself remained uncertain about how things would ultimately unfold.

Indeed, this matter was quite advantageous for the employer, Soo-ji, yet it also involved leveraging the influence of a beautiful lady boss. Such a matter could not be handled without consulting her, and unsurprisingly, she offered her full support.

Women are inherently emotional creatures; even the sharpest among them retain this trait. After weighing the situation carefully, Soo-ji believed this could help her break free from troubles and gain fame—a prospect full of promise.

“I hope I can help you, Yun-ho. You’re so upright and kind; you deserve a wonderful life,” she said with an artful grace that always put people at ease. If Cheon Yun-ho did not know better, combined with her warm smile, he might have mistaken her kindness for personal interest.

Spending time around her, he might even fall into the trap of her charm. He was no saint; having spent time in the entertainment world, he viewed most things with a sense of detachment. When it came to flirting, he might not be outmatched even by this well-known actress.

Their brief interaction allowed Yun-ho to see clearly the goodness in her heart and her sincere care for him. He responded in kind, and a subtle chemistry began to form between them.

Soo-ji also saw through his dissatisfaction with the status quo. After their honest exchange, they now shared a common goal. In the entertainment industry, image is everything. With his annual donations amounting to hundreds of millions of Korean won, driven by his compassion for the poor, the persona of a charitable goddess was beginning to take shape.

“There are such tragic cases. I can set up a special fund to provide financial support to these unfairly treated soldiers,” Soo-ji offered.

Yun-ho shook his head. This matter was better initiated by the newspaper; concrete steps would need to be adjusted and refined as details emerged.

Recently, Se-jeong had been very busy. Not only had she been invited, along with former IOI members, as a guest to the PRODUCE 48 debut night, but as the central figure of PRODUCE 101, Somi—also the center of the show—served alongside Kang Daniel as “producers for all.” This time, the scale was even grander, featuring many well-known trainees and idols.

“The youngest member is only fourteen! And they seem pretty popular. These young talents are truly remarkable nowadays,” Yun-ho mused.

Back then, his sister Se-jeong was a late bloomer, only signing her trainee contract at eighteen. When she debuted as an IOI member, she was already twenty, nearly twenty-two by Korean age. Though third in her group, she was five years older than the youngest member, Somi.

In this industry, fame must be seized early. The beautiful employer herself debuted at sixteen and, after eight years, had already achieved great success. Yet she was only two years older than Se-jeong, who was just starting out—a senior who commanded respect.

Speaking of that girl, she was about to participate in a program called the Idol Athletics Championships, even inviting Yun-ho as a guest to watch. It was a whole day’s event—quite overwhelming. Was he really such an idle person?

“The Idol Athletics Championships are nicknamed the matchmaking festival! Oppa, if you don’t come with me, what if someone flirts with me or asks for my number?” Se-jeong teased with a mischievous laugh. The nickname “Uncle Se-jeong” suited her well—she was carefree, sometimes playful like a humorous middle-aged man, and occasionally showed a mischievous smile around cute girls.

“That’s nonsense. I’ve seen TWICE plenty of times! Don’t forget I’m still part of JYP!” Yun-ho protested.

In the end, he couldn’t resist her persistence. There was plenty of time, and he agreed to accompany her. He didn’t mind watching her perform; she was exceptionally athletic, seemingly a gold medal contender. However, the production team treated idols poorly—sometimes worse than their fans—making the experience grueling.

Recordings lasted over ten hours, and fans suffered due to unreasonable rules—no leaving midway, no eating inside the venue—it was as if fans were prisoners.

Many idols got injured each time, but Se-jeong’s event, women’s group archery, had a low injury risk, which reassured him.

He heard she had already begun training, which required extensive time and effort. Unlike teammates who lazed at home, she practiced after finishing her personal schedule.

Days passed, and after his holiday ended, Yun-ho planned to report in somewhere. He was not ungrateful; his resignation letter was ready. This brief job was nearing its conclusion.

Yun-ho saw Somi again after a long time. She hesitated to speak but ultimately gave him a complex look before turning away—leaving him puzzled, as if he had wronged her. How could he have done anything to upset her? They barely knew each other.

He heard Somi had finished recording her debut song and would soon debut with her new girl group. Though she lacked social tact and sometimes acted thoughtlessly, her straightforward nature made her not unpleasant. After all, Se-jeong vouched for her as a good younger sister.

Perhaps he had upset her last time he scolded her, but Yun-ho felt he had said nothing out of line and saw no need to placate a high school girl.

His future was still uncertain; why bother managing a famous artist’s affairs? Since returning from IOI, Somi had signed an artist contract rather than a trainee one and had even appeared in commercials—a comfortable life.

He knew negotiations with higher-ups were ongoing, likely about contract details. According to Se-jeong, many IOI members were pulled back by their companies after disbandment, treated like assets rather than individuals. Popular artists naturally resisted sharing income evenly with newer trainees.

Soo-ji, however, had taken his resignation letter and urged patience. It didn’t matter much to him; he had no other prospects. As for Soo-ji’s insistence on personally hiring him, that remained to be seen. He had no psychological burden but was reluctant to accept such a level of support. Reporter Chen’s matter seemed to be progressing as well.

Having just returned home, he cooked a packet of ramen for dinner. Scrolling through the news on his phone, he wondered if his own story breaking would cause a sensation, or if it would sink without a trace—what then?

No explosive news lately, but he saw Somi’s Instagram update—the same girl who had forced him to follow her. She hadn’t posted for a long time but today shared a photo of herself in front of a photo wall with an English caption:

“The darkest nights produce the brightest stars. You guys are my everything... Love you lotsss.”

Probably because her debut was imminent, Yun-ho thought. Though sometimes irritating, she was generally likeable. He hoped she and the sharp-eyed little sister, Hwang Ye-ji, would become the dual ACEs of the industry. The rice wine gifted by Ye-ji hadn’t been finished yet—just right to pour a bit with dinner.

“Hope you both walk a path of flowers! This is oppa’s blessing for you!” he said, raising his glass.

He toasted with the toy bear sitting on the opposite chair—a gift from Se-jeong, who said eating alone was lonely and suggested treating the bear as company.